


Grieving for a Phantom Child

by Wishweaver



Series: Conversations [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Baby Sarah, F/M, Gen, Post-Flashpoint (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:56:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishweaver/pseuds/Wishweaver
Summary: Disclaimer: If you recognize it, I don’t own it.In the wake of “Duets” (Flash 3.17,) Barry talks to Iris about Flashpoint and its repercussions.





	Grieving for a Phantom Child

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been out of the fanfic game for a while. The CW superhero shows are my current fandom, especially the Flash. I’ve been picking at some short stories to get back in practice but haven’t posted anything before now. 
> 
> This story is set immediately after Flash 3.17 “Duets,” but part of the underlying backbone is a “Barry babysits Baby Sarah” story I’ve been playing with (and finally finished. It's in my works under the title "Night Out.") Barry may seem more familliar with Baby Sarah than is strictly shown in canon but it shouldn't be too distracting. Also apologies if the timing of this post seems poor with the recent airing of Flash 3.22 "Infantino Street."

**Grieving for a Phantom Child**

Iris cracked one eye open and groaned softly at the sound of her phone alarm. To appease her worried father she’d agreed to come along when he introduced Wally to Eggztravaganza, Central City’s favorite breakfast eatery. Of course when she’d made those plans she hadn’t counted on her love life suddenly righting itself. Her father always insisted on arriving early to avoid a long wait but with all the celebrating and making up she and Barry had done it felt like they’d just gone to sleep a few hours ago.

 _Ugh! That’s because we_ did _go to sleep just a few hours ago. Why did I think this was a good idea again?_

By now the digital tune was starting to be annoying. Iris patted around on her nightstand until she found the phone and silenced it, considering. To be fair Eggztravaganza’s selection of pancakes alone was totally worth the trip. Even Barry, sleepyhead supreme, almost never turned down a chance to go there.

Feeling better about being up at such an unholy hour, Iris turned to wake her newly reinstated fiancée but the space Barry should be sleeping in was empty.  

Frowning, Iris glanced at her phone but there were no alerts. A quick look around revealed no note. Barry wasn’t in the closet or the master bath, and on top of that the apartment was really _quiet_. She experienced a brief flare of panic— _Did he run again? Did I just dream last night?_ —but the sight her engagement ring calmed her.

_Not a dream then._

_Facts, Iris, facts,_ she reminded herself, shrugging into her robe. She was a journalist. She knew better than to jump to conclusions. Barry wasn’t infallible, but he rarely made the same mistake twice. And now that she thought about it, he did tend to get up if he was having a restless night rather than risk disturbing her.

Iris kept an ear open for signs of life as she descended the stairs. She didn’t hear any high speed swooshing and clanking in the kitchen so she was fairly confident she’d find her speedster dozing on the couch or maybe curled up with his laptop watching Netflix.

She _didn’t_ expect to find him sitting at the table writing furiously, his right hand a blur of motion.

Iris almost called to him, but hesitated, wondering exactly what he was so engrossed in. As someone with an insatiable curiosity and an honest love of learning, Barry normally just soaked in the world around him, filling that big brain of his with random facts as eagerly as a child might collect shells at the seashore.

Normally.

There were also times when Barry laser-focused on a single thing with almost frightening intensity. She knew from experience that she could probably take a quick peek at whatever he was doing before _gently_ getting his attention.

Gentle was key if you didn’t want to peel startled Barry off the ceiling. She and her father had learned that one early on.

 _What are you so interested in?_ As she neared she noticed the paper Barry was working on was one of several, and he wasn’t writing. He was _drawing_.

 _Whoa._ Iris almost whistled aloud, but caught herself. Barry had picked up sketching and drawing a few months after his mother’s death then got more serious about it once he decided to become a CSI. He’d become technically proficient with practice; able to create perfectly respectable illustrations for research papers and police reports but now…

Iris shook her head in awe. Clearly Barry had upped his game.

Big time.

He was hunched over his current work, blocking it from view but there was a small pile of drawing paper on the table, and on top was a waist-up portrait of Kara.

Fascinated by the loving attention to detail, Iris took in the sleeveless sequin bodice, opera length gloves, and the joyful abandon on her face as she sang into what appeared to be a forties-era stand microphone. She had just enough time to note “Moon River 2017” written at the bottom of the page before she heard a sharp gasp from Barry and all the paper vanished in a gust of wind and a flash of light.

When Iris managed to blink the spots away she found herself looking at an almost bare tabletop. Bemused, she arched an eyebrow at Barry, who had evidently stowed the papers in a large three-ring binder.

Folding his arms casually on top of the binder, Barry gave her a sweet smile. “Hey babe, you’re up early. How about I put the coffee on and make breakfast? I’ll just put this away,” he offered, moving to pick up the binder. Iris quickly put her hand on his shoulder before he could flash away.

“No, don’t get up, and _don’t_ hide that book,” she warned in her best ‘ _nice-try-but-I-have-your-number-Bartholomew-Allen’_ voice. “I’ll put the coffee on then I want to see your drawings because you’ve clearly been practicing since the last time you showed them to me.”

To his credit, Barry ceded more gracefully than she anticipated. He didn’t insult her intelligence by playing dumb and he didn’t try to worm his way out of the conversation. By the time Iris returned with two steaming mugs he’d settled himself on one end of the couch and had the binder open to “Moon River.”

Having known Barry as long as she had, Iris simply set their coffees down, seated herself next to him and waited.

It didn’t take long for Barry to crack.

He fiddled with the hem of his t-shirt, looked at Kara like she might be able to help him, and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand before finally turning to face her.

“So, you remember how after my mom died I had to go to court-mandated therapy?”

Iris nodded, immediately paying close attention. Of course she remembered. Those hadn’t been stellar times in the West household. Even now they were rarely mentioned never mind discussed.

“Long story short, the therapists thought I should ‘work through my trauma’ which was code for ‘wear-Barry-down-until-he-changes-his-story ’, which wasn’t happening. I had enough trouble getting Joe to let me visit Dad at Iron Heights. If I had even hinted I thought he was guilty...”

Barry shook his head then refocused and started ticking off points on his fingers. “They talked to me, they had me write down my thoughts, my nightmares, my feelings, hell they even tried meditation and cognitive reconstruction. Nothing really helped until someone suggested drawing. Somehow the pictures helped—even though drawing took longer to do. Maybe it’s because I think more in images than words. I could just relay what I was seeing instead of trying to decide how to describe it.”

“I always thought you just found a hobby you enjoyed,” Iris admitted, catching his wrist and rubbing circles with her thumb. “And to be fair, you got to where you could sketch pretty fast.” Barry cocked an eyebrow and gave her a mischievous smirk.

“You should see me now,” he teased, ducking but not really trying to escape when she snatched her hand back and whacked him with it. “The point is, I kind of went back to drawing regularly after I woke up from my coma. It helps me work through things—good and bad—if that makes any sense at all.”

“It makes perfect sense, Bear,” Iris said with a reassuring smile. “Remember all the diaries I’ve filled? I totally get putting emotions on paper.” Reaching out again, she touched the plastic sleeve Kara’s picture was in. “So this is a good thing from Musical Land?” she guessed.

Barry nodded. “After I was whammied, I found myself in a nightclub called Moran’s. Kara was on stage singing _Moon River_.” Warming to the subject he grinned at her and continued.

 “Cutter Moran was the gangster owner who looked like Malcolm Merlyn,” he said, turning to another drawing and pointing to it. “Cutter was Mon El’s father in the story, only Mon El’s name was Tommy Moran, and Tommy was in love with Millie Floss who was you.”

Iris laughed. She couldn’t help it. One, she hadn’t seen Barry ramble excitedly in far too long, and two… “Mille Floss? Really?”

“Mhm,” Barry agreed, flipping to another picture in landscape format and rotating the binder so she could see. “That’s Mille and her fathers. They were Cutter’s rivals and Millie and Tommy had a forbidden love affair going on. Very West Side Story.”

Iris nodded absently studying the drawing that appeared to be her standing between her father and Dr. Stein of all people. Then the other shoe dropped. “Wait, did you say, ‘fathers?’”

“Yup,” Barry affirmed, “Although I had more trouble with the idea of Joe and Stein as a viable couple than the whole ‘two dads’ thing. Is that weird?”

Iris laughed at the thought, picturing her father’s budding relationship with Cecile Horton and trying without success to imagine a gangster version of Martin Stein in her place—or just a gangster version of Martin Stein for that matter. “What kind of crazy world were you stuck in?”

“Crazy covers it. Thank you for rescuing me.” Barry closed the binder and leaned in for a kiss, but Iris stopped him.

“Not so fast. These are all finished. What were you working on when I interrupted you?” she asked.  Just like that her happily-rambling besotted-dork of a fiancée vanished, leaving a more somber and careworn Barry Allen in his place. Iris was so stunned at the change she nearly retracted the request, but waited when Barry closed his eyes, and took a deep breath clearly centering himself.

“No secrets,” he murmured, reminding himself or her Iris couldn’t tell.

“No secrets,” Iris agreed, wondering what the hell he was about to say. She was so focused on whatever revelation was coming she jumped when her phone signaled an incoming text from the dining room table. The next second there was a rush of air and Barry was sitting next to her like he’d never moved, but her hair was settling back on her shoulders and her phone was in her hands. She gave him a little nod of thanks then glanced at the screen.

_You ready, sis? Dad and I are about to head over._

Iris looked at the text from Wally then her ‘not-even-pretending-to-be-ready’ attire, then back up at Barry. _Damn it_. She hated to miss out but something told her if they didn’t have this conversation now, it might never happen. And anyway, _she_ wasn’t afraid of lines. She and Barry could hit Eggztravaganza another time—preferably at a decent hour.

Bolstered, she typed, _Raincheck, yeah? You and Dad go ahead. I’ll catch up with you later,_ willing her brother to just take the hint and drop it. She looked up after sending the text to find Barry watching her.

“Problem?” he asked, clearly curious but not pushing.

“Dad was trying to cheer me up with a crack-of-dawn trip to Eggztravaganza.” Iris tipped the phone so Barry could see the texts. “Unfortunately something has come up and I am unable to make it. Now,” she prompted, tapping the binder, “You were about to tell me something. No secrets, remember? ”

“I remember,” Barry said faintly, eyeing the binder like it was an especially poisonous snake. He hesitated, then flipped to the very last page in the book and held it so Iris could see.

“Her name was Sarah Diggle. Her parents were Dig—John Diggle—and his wife Lyla from Team Arrow. She was named after Sarah Lance so we all called her Baby Sarah,” he explained a little woodenly, while Iris took in the drawing of Barry singing to a toddler-aged girl he was holding on his shoulder. “She was...a casualty of Flashpoint. When I drew Kara singing Moon River it made me think of her. I babysat a few times. She…liked for me to sing to her.”

Barry’s figure of himself was recognizable but simply roughed in—clearly unfinished. Baby Sarah by contrast was well on her way to being beautifully rendered. “What happened to her?” Iris asked softly, taking in the little girl’s curly hair and sleep-relaxed features.

Barry shook his head and made a helpless little gesture with his hands. “I don’t know. I don’t exactly understand the dynamics of Flashpoint, but I do know there were different orders of magnitude in how it affected individuals. Some people’s pasts are mostly intact; others are living completely different lives. And those are the lucky ones. The worst cases are those who simply ceased to exist when the timeline reformed—people like Baby Sarah.”

“How long have you known?” Iris asked, dreading his answer. _How long have you been beating yourself up over this?_

“Almost from the beginning,” Barry said, confirming her suspicions. “Things were obviously _off_ with you and Joe and the rest of the team when I got back. I didn’t realize how much until I went to see Felicity. The background on one of the Arrowcave workstations was a picture of Dig holding a young boy—his son, Baby John. At first I thought Sarah might have a brother now, but no. As far as everyone else is concerned she never existed.

“I didn’t tell anyone else about Baby Sarah until Cisco forced the Flashpoint issue during the Dominator invasion. Things got a little _tense_ , but it worked out in the end.”

Iris nearly rolled her eyes at the typical Allen understatement. “What happened?”

Something must have–Teams Flash and Arrow were still friendly as far as she knew and more importantly Cisco and Barry had begun to mend fences after the alien scare. Barry glanced nervously at her and twisted his fingers into knots.

“The Dominators offered to leave if I turned myself over to them,” he admitted. “I didn’t do it!” he tacked on quickly when Iris raised both hands to her mouth and looked at him with wide, horrified eyes.

“You thought about it,” she accused, aghast that he’d even consider it. Barry closed his eyes and let out a breath before meeting her gaze again.

“Yes.”

“Why? What made you think they’d even keep their word?” Iris demanded.

“We’d just been talking about Flashpoint and Baby Sarah and how stupid and selfish I was. Everyone was pissed at me, except maybe Kara. Honestly, I expected to be tossed out the door when the demand came. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one, right? The world or me—it was a no-brainer—but they didn’t turn me over. They wouldn’t let me turn myself over either.”

Iris crossed her arms and glared at Barry, infuriated at his wondering tone. “Well thank God for that! We will be talking about how self-sacrifice should always be a last resort—like ‘we-have-tried-everything-else-and-are-totally-out-of-options’ last resort—later and in great detail,” she warned, “ _especially_ since the wedding’s back on.”

Barry bit his lip then nodded contritely. He looked so miserable Iris sighed, and softened a little. “So that’s when you and Cisco made up?”

Barry shrugged. “It’s when we started working our way back. When I wanted to go to the Dominators he said I wasn’t a hero, I was his friend. He never said what changed his mind, but _something_ did.”

Iris nodded when he confirmed her hypothesis about one Francisco Ramon. “What about John Diggle?” she asked. Barry sighed.

“After it was over and we were getting ready to leave he said he may not understand me but I was a good man. But when I asked if he could forgive me he told me I needed to forgive myself first. What does that even _mean,_ Iris?”

Iris rolled her eyes and made a mental note to get a message to John Diggle. Couching wisdom in cryptic Yoda-speak might work for the Arrow, but Barry tended to drive himself and everyone around him nuts when given something open to interpretation. “Maybe it’s his way of telling you not to be so hard on yourself,” she suggested. “You changed the timeline but at least you weren’t dumb enough to try it again.”

Barry’s face twisted into his ‘I’d-love-for-you-to-be-right-but…’ expression.

“No way!” Iris cried. “ _When?_ ” she demanded.

“Remember when you and I were talking right before I told the team about Flashpoint? It probably seemed like just a few seconds passed between when I apologized and left and when I came back but I was going to do it. I was going to prevent Dante’s death and break who knows what else in the process.”

Iris sat in open-mouthed silence for a couple of seconds and let that sink in. Barry’s, well _previous_ _Barry’s_ refusal to deliberately alter the past was what strained his friendship with Cisco in the first place. He’d been so adamant it seemed impossible he would even _entertain the notion_. Yet here he was telling her he’d not only done it once he’d been ready to do it a second time.

“What stopped you?” she finally asked when it occurred to her he must not have succeeded.

“Jay.” Barry flipped through the binder then showed her a drawing of Jay Garrick looking very serious and holding out a cracked coffee cup. “He pulled me out of the Speed Force and explained a few things.”

Iris studied the picture of Jay while Barry told her about the cup representing the space time continuum. It really was astonishing but somehow Barry had captured the nuances between Henry Allen and his doppelganger. Jay’s stern face had an unmistakable ‘don’t-mess-with-me-kid’ vibe, overlaid with compassion and even hints of budding fondness, but it didn’t show the overwhelming love and pride that always shone from Henry Allen’s.

“Do you have a picture of Henry?” she asked, feeling the need to compare. “A recent one?”

“Of course.” Barry flipped through the book considering, then finally revealed a drawing of Henry and Nora that filled and broke Iris’ heart simultaneously. The couple wasn’t doing anything special; in fact they were just sitting together on the couch. Nora was older than Iris remembered and wore glasses she didn’t recognize. Henry was closer to how Iris remembered him, but he was missing the harsh edge 14 years in Iron Heights had left on him.

 _Flashpoint,_ Iris realized, as dozens of questions filled her mind. She didn’t realize a tear had escaped until Barry’s warm thumb brushed it away.    

“I said I wasn’t in a good space but it was more than that,” Barry said, picking up the thread of the story. He didn’t specify pre-Flashpoint. He didn’t have to.

“Part of it was losing a parent and not being able to do anything— _again_ —but Dad’s death was different from Mom’s. Even I didn’t grasp the consequences at first.”

Barry paused and flicked his eyes over at Iris. “I gave my speed to Zoom when he kidnapped Wally and Harry accidentally knocked me into the Speed Force trying to get it back. Does that sound familiar?”

Iris nodded with a shudder. “Yes. The only difference between you and the Barry that preceded you is you went back in time and he didn’t.”

Barry nodded. “Okay, well assuming consistency for simplicity’s sake, when I was in the Speed Force it…communicated with me. I’d ask to be sent back and it would tell me I had things to do first. One of those things was accepting my mother’s death.”

“Oh, Barry.” Iris reached out to touch his face, noting with sadness that his jawline and collarbones were slightly sharper than she remembered them. Now that they weren’t newly reunited and he was clad in thin cotton sleepwear instead of his usual layers or the armored Flash suit it was clear Barry’s appetite had been off during their separation. _We’ll go get brunch later,_ Iris promised herself. _First, we have to get through this._ It was obvious to her that Barry hadn’t talked about the events leading up to Flashpoint in a while—maybe ever—and equally clear he desperately needed to.  

“Were you able to? Accept Nora’s death I mean?” Iris asked. Barry _had_ visited Nora’s gravesite for the first time ever after she and Cisco had fished him out of the Speed Force, but he’d still changed the timeline.

“I _thought_ so,” Barry replied softly after sitting sad-eyed for a while. He flipped to a drawing of himself and his father sitting side by side on one of the examination tables at Star Labs. Barry had his head on Henry’s shoulder and Henry was pressing a kiss into his son’s hair.

“This was after we’d taken Zombie Tony down. Dad had just told me he planned to return to Central City. Before that I said I finally got his whole fate thing—how our experiences made us who we are. I told him I wouldn’t change my life even if I could. What a joke,” he said bitterly, adding data to Iris’ theory of where the two Barry’s diverged.

“So Henry was always against the idea of tampering with the time stream?” she asked, seeking verification.

Barry nodded. “Yeah, he didn’t want me to go back the first time—when the singularity formed. He thought it went against the natural order of things.”

“Pre-Flashpoint Barry refused to change the timeline even when Cisco begged him to. Maybe he made Henry’s “fate” philosophy his own, and held onto it even tighter to honor his memory after Zoom murdered him,” Iris theorized.

“Maybe,” Barry agreed, seeming to understand that she was speculating not accusing. “It sounds like a choice I could have made if I’d spared a second to think.”

“Yes, but running is a familiar choice too,” Iris pointed out gently. “You drove Dad nuts when we were kids, especially before you learned to trust him and talk things out. You’d hold everything in until it was too much then bolt without warning. Was it like that?”  

Barry frowned and tilted his head, considering. “Maybe,” he repeated, starting to look a little overwhelmed. Iris decided to try and get him refocused.

“You said earlier you weren’t in a great space and your Dad’s death had consequences,” she summarized. “What were they?”

Barry pressed his fists to his eyes then ran agitated hands through his hair. “It just sounds so stupid to say, Iris. The reason doesn’t make my decision any less wrong, but I swear I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. If I’d just taken a minute to think I never would have done it.”

“I know, baby. I believe you,” Iris assured, and she did. “You gave in to grief and screwed up royally in the moment, but you didn’t do it maliciously and you did try to set things right. That counts for a lot in my book.”  

Barry ducked his head bashfully. When he looked up again his eyes were wet and shiny. “If I never thanked you for believing in me all these years, then thank you. It helped—helps—more than you know.”

“Always,” Iris promised, leaning over and sealing it with a kiss. When they parted she settled back into her seat and took his hand.  Barry was quiet for a minute or two but eventually he picked up the story.

“I was an oddball long before Eobard Thawne killed my mom,” was what he chose to start with. “You remember what I was like as a kid. Sometimes I was afraid I didn’t measure up, but my parents celebrated my strengths and looked past my shortfalls—especially my mom. She gave me little talismans to hold onto like ‘musicals make everything better’ and insisted a good heart was more important than fast legs.”        

“Your mom was a smart lady,” Iris commented, earning a bittersweet smile.

“She was. I…probably depended on her more than the average kid my age. “Losing both of them at once was... a lot. My mom was beyond help, but my dad _wasn’t,_ so I focused on him,” Barry admitted, finally picking up his coffee and taking a sip. Iris followed suit and waited for him to continue.  

“I wanted so badly for Joe to believe me and I got so angry when he just _wouldn’t_. It took a bit, but I finally understood _no one’s_ word is good enough in the eyes of the law. I figured that out right before _Goblet of Fire_ came out when I re-read…”

“Prisoner of Azkaban!” Iris exclaimed along with him. “When Harry discovered Sirius Black was falsely imprisoned. I remember.” 

Barry nodded excitedly, seeming pleased that she followed his train of thought. “If I wanted to prove my father’s innocence, I needed compelling, irrefutable evidence that trumped what was already on record. Finding it became my focus, and some days, my reason to get out of bed and keep trying. Dad knew. He could see how it was consuming my life and shaping my decisions. He begged me to distance myself…change my name…leave Central City and start fresh…but I just couldn’t. Exonerating him _had to come first_. Everything else was secondary. ”

“Even grieving your mom?” Iris asked in a small voice remembering the countless times she and her dad offered to accompany Barry to Nora Allen’s gravesite.

“ _Especially_ grieving my mom. And that’s where things get a little weird,” Barry said, like the entire scenario wasn’t weird enough already.

“Look, I know this is stupid, okay? Intellectually I always knew she was dead, but emotionally, over time, I started thinking that if I could get my dad back, maybe I could get my mom back too. I _was_ chasing the impossible, after all. Dad unwittingly fed that delusion when he chose to leave Central City after his release. He was elsewhere, so she was too. There was no need to accept loss or process grief like a normal person.

“Shifting to recent events, just when I was letting myself accept my mother was gone, Zoom drove his hand through my father’s chest and my whole foundation shifted. I’d used him to anchor myself over half my life. I’d never stopped to consider how much of my mental state was tied up in his well-being until he was just…gone. Dad was gone, Mom was gone, and neither one was ever coming back.” Iris gulped and steeled herself but he made no move to retrieve the drawings.

“Are they in there?” she asked, almost timidly indicating the binder. “Henry’s death…and Nora’s?”

“Yes, several times over,” Barry admitted. “The things I’ve showed you are innocuous enough but there’s a lot of ugliness in here too—people I’ve lost, Flash stuff, even a few of my more horrific crime scenes. I know you’re probably curious but I need to sort them into viewable and…not…before you look.”

“Okay,” Iris agreed, not really wanting to stumble across anyone’s death including her own. Judging from his nightmares she was sure that was in there—probably several times over as well. “I’ll want to be with you anyway, like we are now,” she admitted.  “Are they in any particular order?”

“Right now they’re in the order I drew them in—roughly chronological with a few random things I did as they occurred to me.”

“Like Baby Sarah,” Iris said, recalling the unfinished drawing he’d showed her earlier.

“Like Baby Sarah,” Barry agreed. He studied her for a few seconds then smiled and retrieved the book. “I drew this one a while back after listening to Julian rant for an hour straight about the lack of proper tea in Central City.”

Iris smiled at the drawing, instantly enchanted. Barry was sitting cross-legged on the floor near a child-sized table holding out a tiny teacup. Baby Sarah was standing in front of him “pouring tea.” She was clearly dressed up for the occasion, wearing toy jewelry, “princess” shoes and a ruffled Pokémon nightgown. Barry looked like he usually did in jeans and layered shirts, except for the incongruous addition of a feathered boa draped haphazardly over his neck.

“That was the first time I looked after her,” Barry supplied when she smiled up at him. “It was back when you and Joe were still trying to win Wally over and my presence seemed to be overly complicating things. I was feeling lonely and out of sorts one night so I decided to blow off some steam. We’d just finished the nightie so I used that as an excuse to run to Star City and drop it off.”

“We made that?” Iris asked, inexplicably upset that she had no memory of the collaboration.

“Mhm,” Barry confirmed. “It started when Cisco and I decided Baby Sarah _really_ needed to own something with a Diglett on it.”

Iris held her forehead already seeing where this was going. “Barry…” she groaned, drawing his name out in amused disbelief.

“Hey, I made the Diglett cute _and_ I gave her lots of little Pokéfriends,” Barry defended himself, nodding at what could be seen of the design on the front of the nightgown.

“What did Cisco do?” Iris asked.

“He designed the garment. Caitlyn made sure all the materials were soft, hypoallergenic and stain resistant, Harry helped Cisco with some practical details like engineering some growing room into it, and you and Jesse were in charge of ribbons and sparkles.”

“What about this?” Iris asked, her smile turning mischievous when she pointed at his adornment. “You should keep that. It’s a good look for you,” she teased.

Barry gave her his patented ‘you’re-hilarious’ look. “I don’t think so. Besides being a cross-contamination nightmare, pale pink really isn’t my color,” he replied airily, making Iris laugh. “Anyway, she was just trying to spiff me up,” Barry explained. “I was dressed ultra-casual compared to everyone else.”

“Oh? What was the occasion?” Iris asked.

“Felicity’s recovery from being shot,” Barry explained. “She’d just gotten the green light to start increasing her activity so Team Arrow decided to treat her to a fancy evening out. Dig and Lyla were dressing when I showed up, so I offered to watch Baby Sarah while they finished. Then their babysitter cancelled and almost threw a wrench in their plans. Lyla’s pretty particular about her sitters, but I was there, Central was quiet, and Sarah and I were getting along okay so she finally agreed.”

“Did you show her your Red Cross Babysitting Certification card?” Iris teased.

“That card was probably the only reason she didn’t make me cough up references,” Barry confided. “That and the rest of the team assured her I was dependable…enough…heh. Dependable. That’s funny. I promised to protect her with my life and now I’m the only one who remembers…damn it!” Barry broke off when his glassy eyes finally overflowed, wiping them savagely with the backs of his fists.

“Hey,” Iris soothed when he looked up, furiously trying to blink his tears into submission. “ _Hey,_ ” she insisted more firmly when he didn’t respond, reaching out to grasp his face with both hands because—oh my God, after all the times they’d comforted each other—was he actually trying to hide his emotions from _her_?

He resisted initially, but not for long, letting her guide his face down so she could meet his eyes. “Hey,” Iris said again, gentle this time as she wiped at the tears that had managed to escape. “Come on Bear, talk to me.”

Predictably the first words out of his mouth were an apology. “I’m sorry. I was trying to lighten things up not make them worse. I just never know when it’s going to hit me. I’ll be fine in a minute, I promise.”

Iris shook her head in fond exasperation. _You mean you’ll be able to wrestle it down in a minute,_ she thought, wise to his game now. At his core, Barry was optimistic, empathetic, and kind-hearted and she loved him for it. At his worst, he took things far too seriously, had an endless capacity for self-blame and doubt, and detested the thought of burdening others or being seen as incapable or weak.

 _Those_ qualities made her want to shake him in frustration. Bartholomew Henry Allen might have perfected hiding his pain behind a smile, but whether he liked it or not he physically needed to sit down and talk things out from time to time. If he’d been bottling things up the way she suspected he had it was a wonder he hadn’t exploded from the pressure.

Or maybe he had in little bursts, like his uncharacteristic crabbiness where Wally was concerned. Iris quickly ran through the last few months in her head and decided Barry’s speed healing was probably the only reason he didn’t have an ulcer the size of a grapefruit.

“Barry, it’s all right if you’re not okay. In fact, you shouldn’t be okay. This is Iris, remember? We help each other. You don’t always have to be strong for me. I understand if you feel angry, sad, cheated, betrayed... I even understand if some days you regret restoring the timeline. It must have been hard to give them up so soon after getting them back.”

“Originally I was just going to save my dad,” Barry admitted, setting the binder down again and drawing his knees up to his chest. “I might have gotten away with that—less time changed—but once I started running…”

“You had to save her too,” Iris finished for him, seeing it clear as day. Of course he wouldn’t choose to save just one of his parents. That was all Barry—in for a penny, in for a pound. She put one arm across his tense shoulders. “How is it now?” she asked. “How are you feeling?”

“Honestly? Some days I feel a little guilty that, out of everything, Baby Sarah is what gets to me the most. I mean, take Caitlin. Harry was able to siphon off my speed, and make me fully human again. I feel bad about what she’s going through but based on precedent odds are good we’ll be able to help her.”

Iris nodded. That made sense. “And Cisco?”

“Cisco’s…harder,” Barry murmured. “Look, I don’t have the connection with Cisco’s family he and Caitlin have with you and Joe. That said, I hate that Dante’s death hurt Cisco so much, but I didn’t change or not change the timeline to specifically screw with the Ramon family.”

Iris nodded sympathetically. It had been horrible to watch helplessly while the normally happy engineer struggled through his grief. Caitlin had been the only member of Team Flash he’d turn to for comfort.

 “Cisco would probably hate me all over again if he knew, but Dante’s death was the first thing I successfully let go of once I owned Flashpoint,” Barry confessed softly. “I work for the CCPD. I know firsthand how horribly, stupidly common DUI-related incidents are. What happened to Dante was pointless and tragic but it wasn’t extraordinary. It could have happened anyway—it could have happened in Flashpoint. Caitlin made the assumption that Dante was alive there, but I can’t verify it. I had no need to seek him out and Flashpoint Cisco didn’t specifically say.”

Iris leaned in and kissed Barry on the cheek. “You can’t help how you feel, Bear. I’m glad you’re settling things in your mind and starting to forgive yourself, so I won’t tell Cisco if you don’t,” she said, delivering the last part sotto voce and startling a snort out of her fiancée.

“Thanks. I’m glad my trust in you isn’t misplaced.” Sighing, he stretched his lanky limbs and snuggled into the couch cushions. Iris was glad to note he was finally relaxing as he reached out and drew her close. “I don’t remember our heart to hearts ever being this exhausting,” he complained around a yawn.

“Well you’ve been carrying a pretty heavy load, and you didn’t get a ton of sleep last night,” Iris pointed out, before growing serious. “Promise me you won’t keep things bottled up like this again. It’s counterproductive, and besides it’s got to be hard for you to get all the calories you need when you’re trying to stress yourself sick.”

“True,” Barry agreed, kissing Iris’s temple before leaning his head against hers. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just hate to bother anyone and the thing with Sarah has been hard to deal with. She was so little.”

“I know. I’m so sorry that happened,” Iris soothed. “Maybe you could use some of the STAR Labs assets to start a scholarship or some kind of nonprofit children’s charity,” Iris speculated. “I know it won’t bring her back, but…” she trailed off helplessly with a shrug.

Barry nodded slowly, but seemed hesitant. “I don’t know if that’s the best move, Iris. I like the idea, but I don’t want to hurt Dig and Lyla all over again.”

Iris quickly shook her head. “I’m not suggesting you _name_ it after her, but Team Flash _has_ discussed giving back a few times. We even have the royalty offers from Flash merchandisers you’ve never been able to accept as a possible way to start up and maintain. This is just the first time we’ve had a clear idea of what we might like to do.”

Barry nodded again and started to smile. “That’s an awesome idea, Iris. I have no clue how to get something like that started, but yeah, I think it’s definitely worth investigating.”

“Well it’s lucky you’re best friends with an investigative reporter, now isn’t it?” Iris said, grinning back.

“Sooo lucky,” Barry agreed, making Iris giggle and squirm when he planted a row of tickling kisses along her jawline. She tilted her head to give him better access only to jump in surprise a second later when her phone signaled _another_ incoming text and three heavy side-of-the-fist knocks echoed off the front door.

“Oh for Pete’s sake,” Iris grumbled, snatching up her phone although she was pretty sure she knew who it was.

_Get decent, sis. We brought breakfast to you! :D:D:D_

“Want me to make myself scarce?” Barry asked glancing at the text. “I can go hide in the bedroom or something.”

“No.” Iris stalked to the door, undid the locks, and yanked it open. As expected, her brother and father were standing in the hall laden with bags of food.

“Surprise!” Wally greeted ambling past Iris into the loft. Barry had already cleared the table earlier so Iris just led the way to it, listening to her brother’s cheerful chatter as they went. “Man, you would not believe the line, even this early. I guess people got wise to Dad’s system.  Hope the food’s worth it—oh! Hi, Barry.”

That got her Dad’s attention. “Bear?” He put down his bags and glanced from Iris to Barry who was still seated on the couch pajama clad and barefooted. Iris held up her left hand and watched his detective’s mind put two and two together.

“So you guys made up, I take it?” he asked. Iris nodded.

“We did,” she said, sliding her arm around Barry’s waist when he came to stand beside her.

“And you’re sure this time? No fears or doubts?”

Iris and Barry looked at each other then back at Joe and shook their heads in unison.

“Good.” Joe nodded thoughtfully then leveled an accusing finger at Barry. “You asked my daughter to marry you and you didn’t bother to ask for my blessing _again_?”

“Dad,” Iris groaned, but Barry stopped her with a warm hand on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry Joe, I wasn’t thinking,” he said, sounding honestly contrite. “How about you guys eat your breakfast then you and I can step out. Go to Jitters or something. I’ll ask your permission to marry Iris then you can threaten me about not being stupid and doing right by your baby girl to your heart’s content.”

Iris watched her father pretend to consider and rolled her eyes when he nonchalantly said, “Sounds like a plan.”

“I want to go too,” Wally announced, smirking mischievously.

“Yeah? How does it feel to want?” Barry teased, making it clear where he drew the line with regard to the West men and their shovel talks.

Iris watched Wally look to their father for support and slap his hand over his heart in a mortally wounded way when Joe simply shook his head at their antics and continued to unpack the bags. “Why don’t you kids get the dishes and silverware? I bought extra so there’s probably enough for Bear, too.”

“Of course you did,” Iris muttered, wondering if her dad had an inkling that Barry was there all the time. He could be creepily ESP-ish sometimes. She put the coffee pot on the table and went to fetch the cups she and Barry were using, watching in amusement as Wally and Barry tried to out-speed each other grabbing utensils and setting the table while Joe tried to minimize any potential disasters.

Detouring through the kitchen she picked up two additional cups feeling lighter and more centered than she had in weeks.

Yes, she and Barry still had things to work through.

Yes, Savatar was still out there.

Yes, the future was far from certain.

But those were problems for another time. Right now she was about to enjoy an amazing breakfast with some of her favorite people in her cozy home. And somehow that felt like enough.


End file.
